Things Fall Apart

The kids read that book, by Chinua Achebe, in high school.  Today, sitting at my desk, reflecting on my morning, it popped into my head.  Achebe is talking about society and relationships; I'll be writing about inanimate objects.

First, my phone.  My replacement phone for the one that ate my photos.  The phone that refuses to make phone calls unless I am standing outside and facing the sun while standing on one foot and chanting...... well, nearly that bad, anyway.  That was aggravating enough, but then it refused to let me hear the caller unless the phone was set to speaker.  

Believe me, no one is that interested in my conversation with the HVAC scheduler.  

I called *611 last week and spoke with a lovely young man who answered promptly, didn't read from a script, accepted the fact that I could scroll to Settings without a tutorial, and zipped me through the checklist of possible fixes before agreeing with me that the device had issues.  The last piece of the puzzle required me to reboot the troubled phone.  My helper tried to call me on the land line (I knew there was a reason we still had it) but nomorobo kicked in and his call was diverted.  

This morning, TBG and I were home, with our phones charged, at the same time, with no plans for the immediate future.  I dialed *611 and picked up where I left off, with another equally charming young fellow.  We made sure all my pictures were saved to Google and my contacts were saved to that cloud, too, then we wiped the slate clean, whizzed through all the set up because the phone was going back to the shop, and he called me.

I heard nothing.  I put it on speaker and there he was.  He's sending me a new phone which will arrive tomorrow.  I have high hopes.  I'm prepared for them to be dashed.  

After all, I bought the new battery for The Uv's key fob.  I tried to take out the old battery and the whole thing fell apart.  All the little pieces, the tabs and the arrows and the padding, scattered themselves over the counter like relatives who don't want to see one another.  They were connected, but they didn't want to be.

Since I can't remember which piece goes where, I'm taking the whole kit and kaboodle to the dealership on my way to class this afternoon.  I'll let them earn the big bucks and fit it all back together.  

I'm done dealing with things that fall apart.